


X-Wing: Dissolution

by Astronut



Category: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 23:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20572598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronut/pseuds/Astronut
Summary: After the events of the X-Wing comics, Rogue Squadron is left struggling to cope with the death of one their own as the Rebellion transitions into the New Republic.A short story linking the events of the X-Wing comics to the X-Wing books.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to Downtime and the Jedi Council Forums in 2006.   
Please do not repost without permission. 
> 
> This story picks up just after Mandatory Retirement and sets up the events in Rogue Squadron.

X-Wing: Dissolution

Prologue

Watching the tranquil rain forest outside the view port, it was almost believable that life existed without war. That was until one noticed the large blackened craters marring the landscape near the hotel. Inside one of the Grand Hotel’s gilded conference rooms in Vuultin, the mood was somber as its occupants contemplated other black tidings of war. 

“Captain, I have read your debriefing. You and your pilots are to be commended once again for the bravery you displayed and for your efforts on behalf of the New Republic. However, in the future, may I suggest that you keep a better eye on your charge?”

Although the soft smile on Mon Mothma’s face cushioned the blow of her words, Wedge’s cheeks burned with disgrace. _We failed. Ibtisam’s death was for nothing. _“Yes, Ma’am.” 

Only a few days had passed since the disaster at Ciutric. Two squadrons and a commando team had tried to rescue Pestage, the man once in charge of the Empire. The mission had ended with Pestage missing and one of Rogue Squadron’s pilots dead. Now Captain Wedge Antilles faced the head of the Provisional Council, accepting his reprimand for losing a valuable asset. 

Mon Mothma sighed, lines on her face returning as her expression hardened. She turned from Wedge to address the small assembly of officers and politicians seated around the incongruously delicate table. “Unfortunately, with the loss of Pestage, we have also lost our best opportunity for taking Coruscant. Gentlebeings, any ideas?” Wedge looked around, hoping that one the people gathered here would come up with a brilliant plan to take Coruscant and end this war. _More likely, they’ll find another creative way to get us killed._

“Now that we have given up this foolishness of trading the freedom of non-humans for the freedom of a single world, I suggest that we obtain more information on the defenses we face. Perhaps establish more contacts, in convenient positions.” The Bothan’s words matched his silky fur. _I agree with his assessment, scary as that might be, but I wonder what his goal is. More chances for his spies to become martyrs? _Wedge silently scolded himself for that thought, as he himself may well become a martyr for the New Republic. No matter how annoying Fey’la could be, the Bothan martyrs had been fellow soldiers and deserved his respect. _Even if their deaths only empower those who do not deserve it_. Lingering too long in his thoughts, Wedge missed General Cracken’s response. 

“A good plan,” Admiral Ackbar told Cracken, arching his flippered fingers. “When you are ready, I shall find you a willing pilot.” _Shavit. Missed something important._ “Meanwhile, I am also planning on a campaign to further our territory down the Perlemian Trade Route. This will give us additional ground from which to stage an assault on Coruscant.” Generals Cracken and Madine nodded in agreement, but the handful of the fleet officers present looked a bit apprehensive. 

“Is this wise, Admiral?” a dour faced Duro Commodore asked. “Rumors have reached us that Isard has already begun to consolidate much of the Imperial Fleet at Courscant. This would put much of our own force within peril. Our numbers are not yet great enough to challenge them so openly.” 

Admiral Ackbar nodded. “Which I why I want to strengthen our position here at Brentaal and at Ralltiir by taking Esseles, Chandrila, and Corulag before Isard can organize to strike against us.” 

“Taking Chandrila will also provide us with a larger support basis. And it would be nice to see home again,” Mon Mothma added wistfully. “Unless there are any other suggestions…” she glanced around the room. “Very well, we will take this information back to the council for their approval. Until then old friend, choose your battles wisely,” she directed with a smile towards Ackbar. 

“Esseles shall fall as a sand palace before a wave. We shall begin there in your absence.” 

Nodding farewells, Mon Mothma and Borsk Fey’la departed, bustling aides trailing after them. Motioning for several fleet officers to remain, presumably to begin battle plans, Admiral Ackbar approached Captain Antilles privately. 

“Ibtisam was a source of great pride for my people. The ripples of her loss will be widely felt.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I should have…If only…”

“No, Captain. There was nothing you could have done for her. As you well know, the tides of war leave pools of death. Now we must hoist our sails and move on. But not without a brief respite.” His mouth twitched into an approximation of a human smile. “Your orders are to escort my _Home One_ and the _Spirit of Toprawa _to Ralltiir.” Wedge raised a brow. A Mon Cal Cruiser and a Star Destroyer hardly needed an escort to travel two systems over. “Once there, you and your squadron will resume your leave.”

“But sir, if we need to begin sims for the Esseles Campaign. I’m not going to bring my people into this unprepared.” His brown eyes challenged his commanding officer. _I won’t loose another pilot._

“Negative, Captain. Rogue Squadron will not take part in this campaign.”

“But, sir…”

“No. I see fatigue in your manner and hear it in your voice. You have been fighting hard for several months now and have lost much. Until you have rested and your spirits have rebounded, I have little desire to return you to combat. The same applies to your pilots.” 

“Very well, sir.” 

“Dismissed.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“I didn’t expect a planet crushed so relentlessly by the Empire to be so beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you,” Avan murmured into Feylis’s ear as he gently brushed a lock of blond hair from her shoulder. _So beautiful._ Seated on a hill just outside of town, they overlooked a pastoral landscape. Nerfs grazed as a distant herder kept a wary eye out for predators. Already, shadows lengthened as the sky took on red hue. 

Disturbed by his mention of Tion’s Reign of Terror, she swatted his hand away. “It’s the people they crushed, not the land. All those empty houses we passed, once full of innocent people. Now the people are gone, dead or tortured to insanity. Those that are left are so…blank. Apathetic…It’s so awful.” Feylis shifted closer to Avan as he put an arm around her shoulder. 

“Shush. Happy thoughts. We’re on leave, remember?” Soft lips touched silky hair. A gentle breeze stirred the long grasses surrounding the blanket currently serving as a tablecloth for their diner. 

“You realize that this won’t last? A few stolen moments, that’s all we have. Nrin and Ibtisam didn’t even get that.” The hopelessness in her voice felt like a blaster wound to his heart. 

“I’ll always be here, on your wing. No dying, remember?”

“Well, if you’re flying doesn’t improve, you’ll have a hard time holding up your end of the bargain.” A mischievous sparkle entered her pale blue eyes. Fighting to keep her in his arms as she struggled loose, he suddenly felt a roll bounce off his forehead. Retaliating, he scooped it up and lobbed it back. And missed. 

“Your aim is a bit rusty. We’d better start with that,” she taunted as she fired another roll, bouncing it off his nose. 

“My aim is just fine.” His voice took on a soft tone as took her hands in his. “In fact, I aim to make you my wife.” 

“Oh, Avan.” Hope and despair competed for dominance in her utterance. 

“You don’t have to answer now. But as you said, we only have a few stolen moments.”

“Then let’s make the best of them.” Her lips met his. _Together, we can survive this._

***

A wise man once said “You can never go home again,” and right now Hobbie Kilvian believed every word. Hearing that Rogue Squadron’s next dirtside leave would be on his home planet had put Hobbie’s thoughts into turmoil. There was nothing in the galaxy like the air and gravity of the world that a person had been born into. Nothing would ever feel as right, as natural. _But it still wasn’t home. If it had ever been._

Walking the town earlier, he had seen the shell-shocked faces, and had known that this was no longer his world, and never would be again. _It doesn’t matter._ _I no longer have any ties worth mentioning to this world. _Which is why, despite being on his home planet for the first time in years, he found himself with his friends, sitting in a slightly seedy bar that catered to the newly established local New Republic military base. 

Hobbie fiddled with his drink, idly flicking moisture droplets from its sides. Wes, currently flirting with the redheaded bartender, had looked concerned when Hobbie walked into the bar. Without a word, he had bought his friend a drink and returned to his pursuit of female company. Wes knew he didn’t want to talk about it. Neither of them ever spoke of their pasts. _Fighter pilots have no future. Why waste the present dwelling in the past? _

Sighing, Hobbie took a sip of his lum and looked at his friends near the game table where Plourr had challenged Tycho to a game of null-gee caroms. Nrin sat with his drink pretending to watch, if only to avoid the worried looks that Koyi Komad, the Rogues chief tech, kept shooting his way. _He needs time. I wonder if snap out of it before he gets himself killed. _

A string of rather nasty Rodian issued from Plourr attested that Tycho’s efforts to defeat her were succeeding. _Thank the Force she’s distracting him._ Tycho, Wes, and Wedge were the only people that knew of his life before the Academy. He didn’t need Tycho tailing him, making sure he was alright. _He means well, but I can’t deal with any sympathy now._

After Wedge had announced their new orders, he had pulled Hobbie aside and had simply asked if he preferred ship leave to shore leave. Hobbie smiled slightly, remembering Wedge’s shocked face when he responded with the question “Will Winter be there?” He had known that out of his friends, only Tycho would neglect his need for some personal time on Ralltiir. Unfortunately, Winter was busy working with Dendo’s commando team on the Esseles liberation. Luckily, Plourr’s bragging had convinced Tycho he had better things to do than worry about Hobbie’s mental health. 

Turning back to his drink, he glanced at Wes to witness him receive yet another stinging slap. “So, what’s that? Number 47?” 

“Sounds about right.” Wes touched his stinging cheek. “That one actually hurt. And now I can’t even order another drink to sooth the pain,” he moaned. 

Hobbie snorted. “Serves you right. You broke Rule 5. ‘Never hit on a female bartender; you never know when you might need a drink’.” 

“I thought Rule 5 was ‘Never sleep with your commanding officer.’”

“Nah. That got relegated back to Rule 22 when it became apparent we weren’t getting rid of Wedge anytime soon.”

“Speaking of which, where is he? Shouldn’t he be here, commiserating?” 

“Last I knew he had some paperwork to do.” 

“What part of the word ‘leave’ does he not understand? The Admiral took us off duty specifically so he could get some rest.” Cheers broke out in the small crowd that had gathered around the carom set. Hobbie could not see who had scored. 

“Xarcee’s transfer just came through. He had to sign off on it. She’ll join us later to say her farewells.”

“Krift. She’ll be missed.” Wes sighed, and turned to lean his back on the bar. “Good thing she’s getting out now. Fel’s probably off revealing our position at this very moment.” 

“I thought you were over your ‘Can’t trust those Imps’ phase.” Wes leaned toward Hobbie and quickly swiped his drink. “Hey! That’s mine!” 

Voice slightly raspy from downing the lum, Wes responded, “You weren’t drinking it. ‘Sides. Just because you and Tycho turned out to be okay doesn’t mean they all will. I do know he went off by himself again. Sometimes I wonder what he’s up to.”

“Probably just avoiding you.” 

“Speaking of avoiding people, I suppose Wedge is off in one of his I-keep-getting-my-pilots-killed-why-did-they-ever-make-me-Rogue-Leader moods?” 

“Yeah, but not too bad. On a scale of one to me, he’s about a three.” 

Wes didn’t smile at Hobbie’s usual self-depreciating comment. “How are you holding up?” he inquired softly. 

Hobbie hesitated. “I’m fine. Really. The Rogues are my family now.”

Wes’ tone turned playful. “So, you think Wedge would like one of those stuffed Nerfs they were selling on the corner? We could stick it under his pillow to keep him company.” 

Hobbie opened his mouth to reply, was interrupted by shout. “Take that back you Bantha poodoo. I’ll have your tentacles for your slander!” 

“Nrin, power down. No!” Tycho shouted and lunged at Nrin, but was too late to stop Nrin’s fist from connecting. The target of his assault, a fellow Quarren in a ground troop uniform dropped to ground with the impact of the blow. 

“Cal lover,” the Quarren spat, blue blood dribbling from his mouth. A swift kick knocked both Nrin and Tycho to the floor. Rolling to the side, Tycho tried to separate the two Quarren only to earn a painful kick to the back from one of the nearby troopers. Another trooper jerked Tycho from the floor only to be met with a solid right hook to the jaw. The rest of the Quarren’s drinking buddies entered the fray. 

“Alright, now we’re having fun,” Plourr yelled gleefully as she rotated a Trandoshan over her hip, forcefully throwing him to the floor. _Sometimes it’s hard to remember that she’s a princess. _ Now the brawl was in full force; three pilots against a half of a squad of ground troopers. Sounds of breaking glass and cries of pain filled the quickly emptying bar. 

Hobbie jumped to his feet but was surprised to see Wes still on his stool. “Well, aren’t we going to stop this? Wedge is going to flip if they get caught by the MPs.” 

“Let them be. Nrin could use the chance to vent, Tycho’s been looking for a fight for a while now, and Plourr is happier than a sarlacc in sand. As for the MPs, my bet is that the troopers are out of it before the MPs even get word.” Wes grinned. “Besides, if I’m going to be putting a Nerf in a nightie in Wedge’s bed tonight, I really don’t want him mad at me already.” 

“And you’re just going to tell him we sat here and let it happen,” said Hobbie skeptically. 

“Nope. I’m going to tell Wedge I went for a site-seeing walk. After all, I have a native guide.” He clapped his right hand on Hobbie’s shoulder, steering him out of the now noisy bar and into the quiet streets. 

“Mynock. Fine. I seem to remember one of my sisters liking a lingerie shop near here. I wonder if it’s still there.” 

*** 

The streets were quiet. Occasionally, a face peered out a shuttered window or a pedestrian walked quickly down the road, shoulders hunched. Although Ralltiir had been liberated several months ago, the terrors that had befallen its population during the Empire’s rule were still too fresh in their memories. _Lord Tion should have never been allowed to go this far._ The Empire had succeeded where the Republic had failed, bringing order to galaxy in a time of need. _Yet how could they allow such atrocities to occur? My eyes have been opened. I am a Rebel now. Even if it has cost me the love my life. _

His wife, Wynssa Stareflare had disappeared like smoke. While happy that she had been able to elude the Empire, he yearned to have her back in arms and was angered by his inability to find her. _Come back to me love._

Turning onto the road leading back to the New Republic base, he noticed that several shops were still open, their lights warmly illuminating the pavement outside. Several newer stores catered to the needs of the military personal now stationed in the city. Others were older shops that had weathered the Imperial storm, most heavily run down, but some showing signs of fresh paint. A grocery store was occupied by the most Ralltiirians Fel had seen yet. The lot next to it held a small, new store filled with trinkets. Fel let loose a rare chuckle. _A sign of better times to come. A tourist shop. _

Entering the small shop, Soontir had to walk sideways, least his broad shoulders knock a precious trinket off its shelf. Small glass droplets sat on shelves next to old framed holos. Pictures of hundreds of other worlds littered the walls. Alba figurines sat on the counter while small stuffed Nerfs lay in a basket on the floor, with larger ones hanging from hooks on the ceiling. 

“Good evening, sir. May I help you?” The shopkeeper exited from the curtained back room to take her place behind the counter. Her face was a mass of wrinkles and ferrite-grey hair ran down her back. 

“Just browsing, thanks.” He examined the pictures along the wall. “These aren’t of Ralltiir. Where did you get them?” 

“My husband loved to take pictures when we traveled.”

“His work is very good. Give him my compliments.” He picked up a framed holo of a crystal blue pool amidst a vibrant green jungle. 

“He is gone now. Lost to Tion’s interrogation chambers.” Her voice did not hesitate nor tremble. She stated it as a fact, nothing more. _How hard these people have become._ _ They did not deserve this cleansing. No one did. _

“Where was this holo taken? It looks familiar,” asked Fel, changing the subject. 

“Alkatha, in the K’Vath system.” A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. “We won a trip there, back during the days of the Republic. A popular spot with newly weds.”

Soontir’s heart pounded. _Their honeymoon. She had organized their honeymoon, and promised that they would return one day together. Alkatha. _“I’d like to buy this one, please.” _Syal, I’m coming, love. _


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

“You’re sure?” Wedge asked, running his hand through his already mussed dark hair. 

“I cannot know for certain, but I am confident that is where she went.” Colonel Fel stated with a hard voice. He sat in an old ejector seat in front of Wedge’s makeshift desk. 

Wedge sighed, not daring to get his hopes up. “Surely they would recognize her there. The holo industry owns the resort.” 

“Yes, but she is an actress who has won ten Palpys. I think she can fool the resort staff.” Fel looked Wedge in the eye. “She’s there. I can feel it in my heart.” 

“I’ll run a plan by the Admiral. I don’t know how soon we’ll be able to depart. He seemed pretty insistent we enjoy our leave.”

“I won’t enjoy it as long as I know she’s at risk of being caught.”

“An Antilles can take care of herself.” Memories flashed before his eyes of his Mom teacher his sister how to shoot should she need to defend herself. “We’ll find her, and when we do, she’ll scold us for taking so long.”

*** 

“Listen up, people.” Wedge assembled Rogue Squadron in the tiered briefing room at the Ralltiirian base. “Admiral Ackbar has approved a short jaunt to the K’Vath system.” _After surprisingly little argument. _“This is a volunteer mission only. You’re more than welcome to stay and enjoy your leave here. If you choose to remain on Ralltiir, I ask that you leave the briefing now.” No one moved. 

“I thought ‘Rogue’ meant ‘Volunteer’ in old Corellian. Or does it mean ‘Slave of Antilles’? I can never remember.” Wes rubbed his chin as if pondering the question. 

“Quiet you.” He sent his very best offended officer look at towards Janson. “Alright. This is the K’Vath System, our destination.” The holo projector showed large yellow star orbited by two gas giants and a small terrestrial world. “It’s primary planet is Alkatha. It has two populated continents, one of which is home to the Lumanovae Resort.” The projector changed from a secluded tropical resort to a holo of a beautiful blonde woman. “As you may recognize, this is Wynssa Starflare, Colonel Fel’s wife.” _And my sister._ Hobbie and Wes raised their brows. They and Plourr had already went off on a wild nek chase on Corellia in search of Syal. Plourr merely glared. _She had so much fun on Corellia, she should be looking forward to this._ Tycho had tried to mimic Wes’ and Hobbie’ looks of incredulity, but the bacta patch over his eye prevented it. “A team of four will take a Lambda shuttle down to the surface and play tourist. The rest of the squadron will wait on Kerak II, the largest moon of the nearby gas giant. They will stand by to provide any necessary cover. Questions?”

Avan raised his hand. “Who’s the shuttle crew?” 

“The plan calls for Colonel Fel and Lieutenant Celchu to act as senior employees of Helkenar Holocom on a company sponsored vacation. Although with Tycho looking like a speeder wreck, we might have to change plans.” 

“The doc droids said the patches would be off in three days. I’ll be back to my handsome self by the time we enter the system.” He preened a bit, striking a dashing pose only to wince as his sore back muscles seized. He dropped back to his seat, looking a bit sheepish. _Serves him right. He should have learned after his last fistfight_. 

“Boss, I think you better scrub Celchu, he seems to have taken a harder blow to the head than originally thought,” Plourr shot at Tycho. 

“I ought to scrub the three of you for brawling in public. Fortunately, those troopers were so embarrassed that they dropped the charges. I, however, will keep this the incident in mind as I prepare duty schedules.” Groans greeted this announcement. _And I’m going to keep an eye on Nrin. Ibtisam’s death has made him more belligerent than usual. _

He continued with the briefing. “I will be acting as shuttle pilot while Wes and his she-nerf friend will be acting as stewardess and mechanic respectively.” Wedge had awoken this morning clutching stuffed nerf in a miniature garter belt and teddy. _I don’t even want to know where he got that thing, but I never want to see it again. If I do, Janson will find himself wearing a new uniform from now on. _“Mr. Kilvian,” Hobbie’s head jerked up in surprise. “You are in charge of the rest of the squadron.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” Hobbie blurted out. 

“It’s not a punishment.” 

“Kriff. First Celchu commanding and now Kilvian,” whined Plourr. “Next thing you know, Janson will be leading the fleet.” 

“Change that, I didn’t mean for it to be a punishment, but I’m sure Plourr will make it one,” Wedge smiled. Hobbie groaned and buried his head in his hands. “We depart at 0600 hrs, tomorrow.”

***

“This thing itches.” Wes, seated in the copilot seat, tugged viciously at the collar of his uniform. The uniform was bright red with black piping, formfitting from high collar to knee high boots. A small aubresh zed had been embroidered above his heart. “And I thought our dress uniforms were uncomfortable. Compared to this monkey-lizard suit, they’re silk robes. At least with this color, the Imps should be able to put me out of misery faster.” 

“Quit complaining. You brought this on yourself. I told you to lose that nerf. Count yourself lucky that I didn’t force you to wear the nerf’s outfit.” 

“But she was so lonely. She just wanted to be your friend,” he pouted, folding his arms over his chest and slouching lower in his chair. “Why don’t you have to wear one of these torture suits?”

“Because passengers never interact with the pilot.” Wedge flicked a few switches as they prepared to come out of hyperspace. “Now be a good steward and see that our passengers are strapped in.” Grumbling, Wes left the cockpit to check on Fel and Tycho, pulling at his uniform the entire way. 

Wedge himself was dressed in what his pilots referred to as his ‘Han Solo’ clothes. A dark blue vest draped a loose cream shirt. Tight black pants and knee-high boots encased his legs. A blaster hung low on his hip completed the ensemble. He looked every bit the free-lance pilot and nothing like the holos of the young military pilot that had circulated after Yavin. As long as he kept a low profile, he should be safe on a neutral world like Alkatha. 

“All tucked in, safe and sound.” Wes commented upon reentering the cockpit. 

“Good. Ready for realspace reversion in 3…2…1” The tunnel of stars froze into a fixed field as his stomach gave a little lurch that only experienced pilots every noticed. “Coming up on Alkatha.” Below them, a cloud covered marble slowly swelled in viewport. As they approached, verdant continents resolved themselves against a blue-green ocean. 

The com crackled. “Shuttle 1536-8, the is Alkatha Control, please respond.” 

“Control, this is _Faith. _Captain Jag Lessan responding.”

“_Faith_, transmitting your course now. You’re assigned to Landing Pad O-36 at the Lumanovae Resort. Have a safe fight.” 

“Thanks, Control,” Wedge responding, checking the numbers scrolling into the flight computer. “_Faith_ out.” 

*** 

“Thank you for flying Zena Luxury Transports. Please watch your step. Use the designated comlink frequency when ZLT can be of further service. Thank you, and enjoy your stay.” Wedge chuckled, overhearing Wes’ little speech to their passengers. 

Fel and Tycho would be staying at the luxury resort in hopes that Syal would be found there. Both men blended well into the resort’s clientele. Soontir looked every bit the businessman. A crisp grey suit emphasized his build figure. Tycho however looked every bit the aristocrat. His fine features and light blue eyes gave him a cold, steely air. Elaborate gold embodied silk robes in blue and purple draped his lean figure. His hands were folded into his sleeves and when Wes went to hand him his small datacase, Tycho merely glanced at Fel imperiously. Fel picked up the case in his free hand, nodding good day to the steward before trailing Tycho into the resort. _I’m beginning to wonder what Tycho’s home life was like since he plays this part so naturally._

“Come on. I want out of this thing.” Wes motioned Wedge towards the hoverbus that would take them into the city where they had booked a room. Twenty minutes later, they found themselves in the small town that housed those that made their living catering to the resort’s guests. Tossing their bags into the small two-bed motel room, Wes quickly made for the refresher. 

“So, where to first?” Wes asked, toweling his hair, wet from his brief shower. He had changed into an outfit similar to Wedge’s, save that his green vest was a thick, multi-pocketed thing that probably held enough weapons and amusements to keep the entire squadron armed and entertained. 

“Walk around I guess. I have an old holo of Syal that I can show around. I don’t dare show a recent one. Too many people would recognize Wynssa Starflare.”

“Yeah, two scruffy looking men walking around a famous resort looking for Wynssa Starflare. We’d find ourselves with the local police before you can say ‘stalker.’” He tossed his towel on the nearest bed. 

“Hey, that one’s mine.” 

“Mine, now.” He plunked down on it and began pulling on his boots. “So, I say we hit the local bar and ask where all the pretty women are.” 

*** 

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Wedge held his cool glass of Whyren’s Reserve to his forehead, allowing coolness to leach into his skin. They had walked around the town, occasionally asking passers by if they had ever seen Syal. Not a single person responded in the positive. _Of course, if she’s staying at the resort itself, no one here would have seen her. Perhaps Tycho and Fel are having better luck. _ Now, they were taking a break from the humid jungle air in the comfort of a climate-controlled darkened bar some distance from their motel. _Just as Wes originally wanted._ “Sometimes I think you should be a politician.” 

“What?” A confused Wes turned from his study of the black haired waitress who was currently weaving her way through the maze of crowed tables. 

“Never mind.” 

“Oh look, she’s coming this way,” a gleeful Wes quietly crowed. “Want another one?” 

Wedge glanced down at his partially full drink. “No, I think I’ll pass.”

Wes looked at him in disbelief. “You’ve had one. I know you hold your whiskey better than that. I’ll order you another one. Corellian pride, and all that.” He motioned to the waitress, whose long hair cascaded down her back, swaying as she walked towards their booth. 

“So boys, what can I get for you?” At her voice, Wedge looked up. The accent was wrong, but the voice seemed so familiar. Her face was partially occluded in shadow. _Maybe one drink was too much. I’m seeing things already. _

“Your comlink number to begin with,” Wes replied with a cocky grin. When she responded with a glare, he amended, “Of course, another ale would be nice. And my friend here is drinking Whyren’s.” Those glaring blue eyes further emphasized her resemblance to his Mom. _Syal, is that you?_

“Why don’t you grab yourself one and join us? My treat.” His allowed his Corellian accent to fall heavier on his words than he usually did. 

“I don’t drink with strangers.” She spoke in the same manner as she had to Wes, without any indication she recognized him. _Maybe I’m wrong. After all, it’s been years since I saw her. But maybe, just maybe…_

“My name is Jag Lessan and this is my friend Niirf. I see your tag says you’re Cherith. Now we’re no longer strangers.” His brown eyes sought out and finally met her blue ones. His heart fell; she exhibited no signs of recognition. 

“Well, Jag. Nice meeting you. I’ll go and get our drinks.” She gave him a pixie wink and sashayed away towards the bar. 

Janson’s mouth hung open slightly. “How did you…But she…What the Sith just happened here? Your grabbed my girl! Again! And she hasn’t even seen the wanted poster!” 

“Sorry, I thought for a moment…I thought I had found her,” Wedge said quietly. “The drink was a bad idea.” 

“Yeah, well you just ordered another one,” Wes pointed out. “Now when you break her heart I can be here to pick up the pieces.” He looked slightly cheered at this thought. “Of course, why you’d want to flirt with your sister if it had been her is beyond me.” 

“I wasn’t flirting.” Wes gave him a look. “Well, maybe. I was just trying to see if she recognized my name. Jagged was my father’s name.” Wedge tossed back his remaining whiskey. “Well, she’s all yours when she comes back,” he rasped. 

A few minutes later, the pretty waitress was back. She placed the three drinks down and took a seat next to Wedge. “So Jag, what do you do for a living?” She purred. 

“I’m a free-lance pilot. Right now I’m working for Zena Luxury Transport as a shuttle pilot.” 

“I’ve always had the greatest respect for pilots. Flying is so dangerous. And the spacelane pirates are so scary. Have you ever had trouble with pirates?” 

Wedge’s face darkened inadvertently. “Once.” 

Her hand found its way to his knee. She gave it a squeeze as she leaned close to him. “Do you want to show me your shuttle?” 

Instantly his face flushed and he glanced at Wes, who sputtered slightly as he tried to down his drink to keep from laughing. “Umm, I don’t know…I’m kinda of busy…” 

“Pity.” Her lip extruded as she pouted. “I always like looking at ships. When I lived on a space station, I used to take my little brother to see the ships dock.” A jolt of electricity ran through Wedge. _It _was_ her! I found her!_

“Actually, I think I might be able to free up some time. Can you get off work?” He placed an arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. _Hi, Syal_. _I’ve missed you_. A round of coughing drew his attention to Wes, who had apparently choked on his drink. 

“Sure. Just let me go tell my boss.” She kissed his check and then hurried off to the bar, removing her apron on the way. 

“I can’t believe that only took ten minutes. It usually takes me at least an hour to get a girl into bed.” He fixed Wedge with a jealous glare. 

“Niirf. Knock it out. It _is_ her. The Force must be with us. Head back to the motel and grab our stuff. And com our friends and tell them to pack. I’ll meet you all at the landing pad in forty minutes.”

“Got it, boss.” He stood up and tossed a few credits on the table, then glanced back with a smile. “Congratulations.” Wedge let a broad grin creep across his features. _I have my sister back._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Thankfully, they hadn’t had a chance to unpack. Throwing his hideous uniform in his bag, Wes snatched Wedge’s elderly duffel bag and headed out the door. He had tried to reach Tycho and Fel several times on his way back to the motel. There had been no answer. Grabbing the hoverbus back to the landing pad, he hoped it was just the distance interfering with the signal_. Either that or those mynocks are enjoying themselves so much, they turned off their comlinks_. 

Wes was glad when the hoverbus finally arrived. He was slightly anxious and the long ride hadn’t helped. _Everything is going right for a change. Wedge is happy. And somehow the Empire is going to screw it up. I can feel it._ A short walk brought him in front of their landing bay. 

The side door hung slightly ajar. _Wait a minute; I closed that door._ Sliding his blaster out of his its holster and into his hand, he slowly pushed the door open, careful not to present a silhouette to anyone that may be lurking in the darkened hanger. 

When no shots came, he reached his hand in to flick on the glow panels. The lights flickered to life, illuminating the sparse hanger and the _Faith_. Seeing no one, he flicked a second switch to activate the retractable roof. _Just in case I need an escape_. Servos groaned, the noise covering his footsteps as he approached the shuttle. The loading ramp at the rear of the shuttle lay open. _Odd. Someone’s definitely been here. _A shadow near the landing ramp caught his attention and he snapped off a warning shot, placing it mere centimeters from where the average human’s ear would be. 

“Freeze. Or the next one goes in your skull.” 

“Shavit, Wes! Don’t do that!” 

“Tycho, that you?” Tycho stepped into the light from beneath the _Faith_, running a hand over his head as if to check that it was still all there. “Where have you been?” Wes demanded. “I’ve been trying to contact you and Fel. And what are you doing sneaking around the shuttle? You may be able to vape me in a fighter, but I assure you I can vape you on the ground.” 

“No kidding. I think that shot skimmed a few years off my life.” His face tightened. “We’ve been made. The moment we arrived at the resort, security was on to us. Apparently, their background checks are a little more thorough than Intelligence realized.” 

“The planet is also not also neutral as originally though.” Wes jumped slightly as Fel approached. “I’ve been picking up some communications on the civilian channels that may have an Imperial encrypt. Unfortunately, I am unable to decipher them. Their frequency has not increase, so perhaps they are not aware of who we are yet.” _Not like you haven’t told them already, Imp. _

“Let’s assume we’ve been made,” said Tycho, a military edge creeping into his voice. “We need to prepare to make a run for it. Wes, can you contact Wedge?”

Wes looked down at his chrono. “He should be here within the next ten minutes.” 

“Good. Let’s get the shuttle fueled and prepped. Is there anyway we can contact Hobbie and the Rogues without tipping off the Imps?” 

Wes shook his head. “Not that I know of.” 

“Nor I.” 

“Then we’d best get out of here as quickly as possible.” 

*** 

Footsteps echoed up the boarding ramp. Wes turned from the cockpit’s primary instrument panel to glance back into the open passenger compartment. Tycho leaned against the doorway that separated the two compartments. “We’re fueled and ready. Fel’s ready to strap in. He says all the systems look good.” 

Turning to hide his face from Tycho, Wes winced. He was uncomfortable with Fel doing the external checks, but divided the work was the fastest method. _And if he fouls the ship, he’ll be a dead man either way._ Facing the viewport, he was relieved to see two figures stroll into the hanger, hand-in-hand. “Looks like we’re good to go.” 

Tycho followed his gaze, and frowned. “Wedge brought a girl back? Are you sure that’s him?”

“That, my dear XO, is the package we came for.” 

A low whistle issued from Tycho. “Finally. I can’t believe it.” 

“I didn’t either at first. I was sure it was just his excuse to steal my girl.” 

“Your girl? Please tell me you didn’t hit on Wedge’s sister.” 

“Well, sort of. But I didn’t get very far before she vaped me.” 

“Remember what happened to Hobbie?” Wes winced, and unconsciously rubbed his ear. “Now remember who else is along for this ride.” His face began to take on a green caste. 

“It’s been nice knowing you. Did you want me to take care of your nerf?” 

“Naw, give it to Hobbie. He needs a girl.” 

“Tir!” The female shout brought their minds back to the matters at hand. 

“All aboard?” Wes called back to the cabin. 

“Yeah. Report Lieutenants. What’s the hurry?” Wedge worked his way into the cabin, ridiculous Corellian grin still plastered to his face. 

“The resort didn’t believe our identities, sir. We also have reason to suspect there may be Imperials on planet. We thought it best to head out immediately,” Tycho replied. 

Wedge’s smile fell as he took in the events that at occurred. “If you don’t mind Wes, I’d like to take the controls. Get to the back Tycho, and tell the lovebirds to strap in.” Janson slid over to the copilot seat as Wedge settled down in front of the controls. Together, they ran through a series of switches and knobs, slowly bringing the humming engines up to full power. 

“Let’s go home,” said Wedge, pulling back on the stick to gently ease the shuttle from the ferrocrete into the air. 

Wes watched the tropical forest drop away and out of view. _Wish I could have stayed longer. Seemed like a nice little planet. _Abruptly, a small smear on the scanner caught his attention. _Krift. Now the smear has friends._ “TIEs inbound. Seven o’clock.” 

“I see them. Look like squints. We can’t out run them. Call Hobbie. We’ll keep them occupied until the Rogues can intercept.” Wedge’s voice was calm and level. _Cockpit Wedge is in control. _

Reaching over, Wes activated the com. “Hey, Hobbie. Get off your lazy rear, and come meet our little friends. They want to come out and play.” 

“Too late. More TIEs inbound at one o’clock. There’s no where to run.” It wasn’t despair that hardened Wedge’s voice, it was determination. “So let’s show them how to dance.” 

***

“I don’t like this.” Rogue Squadron has just landed on Kerak II, a large artic moon orbiting a ringed gas giant in the K’Vath system. Techs poured out of the support shuttle, hastily constructing a small pre-fab shelter that would be the squadron’s home for the next few days. Flight Officer Hobbie Kilvian was currently perched on top of his X-Wing, trying to communicate with his astromech. 

Plourr, standing at the base of his X-Wing, snorted. “What’s to like? We’re here freezing our sixes off while the Captain and the others take a tropical vacation.” 

“No, I mean, yeah that’s true but that’s not what I don’t like. Those rings are fouling our sensor data. I can’t get a clear reading of the South Continent on Alkatha.” He gestured to the output screen attached to Scrap, his astromech. _The mission calls for us to maintain full sensor scans of the planet. Staying here is pointless if we can’t get any readings. _Hobbie frowned slightly, and then straightened. 

“Listen up, people,” he shouted. “Pack everything back up, we’re moving out to Kerak XII.” A chorus of groans met his orders. The techs shot him a few nasty looks, but began to reverse the process of assembling the shelter. 

“But sir, orders said that we’re to say here,” Avan called out. “This is where the Captain is expecting us to be.” 

“I know that Mr. Beruss, but we will not be able to complete our mission here. Kerak XII is in a polar orbit, taking it out of the plane of the rings. That will help us get a clear reading of Alkatha. Captain Antilles put me in command, and I’m ordering a change of scenery.” 

“You give the guy a little power…” Plourr groused, grabbing her helmet. “Come on Nrin. Last one there cooks diner.” _A safe proposition with our Corellians gone_. Hobbie disconnected the screen and slipped into his own cockpit. _Better safe then sorry_. _After all, they’re my responsibility now. _

*** 

Kerak XII was even less hospitable than Kerak II. It was nothing more than a rock. Five X-Wings and a Xiytiar-class transport sat on its surface. No one had yet debarked as the techs still quarreling how best to step up the shelter on the airless moon. Hobbie flipped channels on his com unit, sick of listing to the arguments. _I hate command. Everyone expects you to have the answers. And when you finally do issue a command, everyone grumbles about it. _

He settled in for a nap. Wedge, Tycho, Wes, and Fel had only been on planet for a few hours. It would be a long wait. Closing his eyes, Hobbie felt the tension run off him. _I understand now why Ackbar let us go on this mission._ _With nothing bound to happen, this is more relaxing than Ralltiir will ever be._

A shrill whistle brought him out of his light slumber. “Scrap, what was that for?” Scrap issued a blat, followed by a raspberry. As the translation scrolled on the data screen, Hobbie swore. 

“Power up, Rogues. We’ve got activity on down on South. Prepare to cover the _Faith_.” _Stay cool. This no different than the sims. _

_Save that the dead stay dead. _

“Leader, this is Eight. Those contacts are on the South Continent. Our people are on the North. This could be totally unrelated activity. We don’t want to prematurely reveal our position.” 

Hobbie took a breath and let it out slowly. “Negative. There isn’t suppose to be _any_ Imperial activity on the planet. If they’re showing themselves, our people could be in serious trouble. Launch when ready.” His engaged his repulsor lifts as he slowly throttled his engines. The gravity of the moon easily relinquished its captive. “This is Leader, on station.” 

“Three, ready to kill some Imps.” Even in through the com static, Nrin’s voice was unusually harsh. 

“Seven, four lit and in the green.”

“Eight, here. Awaiting orders.”

“Eleven ready. Bring them on.” 

“Seven take Eight and head towards North Continent. Three and Eleven, you’ll join me over South Continent.” 

“Sir?” Hobbie recognized Avan’s voice. 

“As you said, our people are down there. I’m sure there are TIEs down there as well. You take out the anvil and we’ll take out the hammer.” 

“Yessir.” 

“Hey, Hobbie. Get off your lazy rear, and come meet our little friends. They want to come out and play.” Wes’ voice crackled over the com. 

He flipped from the squadron channel to a general band. “Then you better run along home. Rogue Squadron inbound.” He flipped channels again. “Pick your targets and engage when ready. May the Force be with you.” 

He suited action to words, locking his stabilizers into attack position. “Three, you’re with Eleven.” 

“I don’t need a keeper, Lead. You’re the one with the affinity for bacta.” 

“You’re right, Eleven. I could use a good soak. You and Three take the second flight. First flight’s mine.” He cut his com and dove towards the oncoming TIE’s. Without bring up his targeting computer, he shot off a proton torpedo towards the formation’s lead squint. The interceptor’s flight scattered and left him no room to dodge the oncoming missile. A burning vapor cloud signified its demise. _Stinks being the leader, doesn’t it?_ Without their leader, the unorganized TIEs were easier pickings. 

“Die, Imps, Die!”

“Three, get your pathetic six back on my wing or I’ll vape you myself.” Plourr did not sound happy, but Hobbie was confident she could handle the situation. _Nrin shouldn’t be flying so soon. _

A green laser bolt overshot his port S-Foil as he rolled right. _I’ve got my own problems to deal with. _Throttling to full, he dove towards the planet. The extra acceleration he gained allowed him to pull a tight loop, dropping him behind the TIE. A quad laser barrage tore the fighter apart. 

Momentarily in the clear, he checked his squadron’s status. “How are you doing, _Faith_?” Hobbie started in surprise as the _Faith_ roared past him trailing two TIEs. Unthinking, he snapped off two shots. 

As the glow from two fireballs filled his cockpit, Wedge’s voice filled the com. “Nice shooting, Rogue Leader. Two minutes until we can jump.” 

“Rogues, head north. We’ll pull them off them off the _Faith_. Transmitting exit vector now.” Scrap fed the results of his calculations to the other Rogues. “Thanks Scrap,” he told the droid. A cheerful whistle answered him, but it quickly switched pitch in a warning. The plan had worked and the TIE were now quickly overcoming the three X-Wings. “Seven, what’s your situation?” 

“Approaching the jump point, seven squints on our tail. ETA three minutes.” _Kriff._ _Okay, Hobbie you got them into this, now get them back out._ _We need more speed._ _Or they need to slow down._ “Seven and Eight, join up with us. Let them regroup.” 

“The _Faith_ is ready to make the jump to hyper. I suggest you all get out of there without dying.” 

“Roger that _Faith_. Have a good trip. Rogues, I want you to stay on course for the jump vector, understand. Get clear and get out.” _I wonder if Imperial bacta tastes worse than New Republic bacta. _

“Lead, you better not be thinking of doing anything stupid.” 

“According to you, everything I do is stupid.” The TIE’s were just about in firing range. _Let’s hope this works._ He cut his engines. TIE’s screamed around him, too surprised at Hobbie’s suicidal tactics to open fire. Now behind them, Hobbie fired three torps, one into the center of each flight formation. Not pausing to count his kills, he opened his throttle to full and yanked up hard on the stick. His course was now perpendicular to his previous direction of travel. With the interceptors’ great speed, it would be a few seconds before the survivors of his missile strike could bank back to follow him. Those precious seconds would enable him to clear the gravity well. 

Glancing at his scanner to double check that the others had jumped, he engaged his hyperdrive. _I hate being the leader. The leader always has to do something heroic. _


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

“I will not submit to your every whim.” The petite woman in the third scale holo glared, hands on her hips. “I’m not going to sacrifice my profits just because you’re afraid of a few Rebels knocking at your door.”

“That constitutes an order, Tavira. Disobey, and I will see that it costs you more than your profits.” The elder woman gazed at the holo, one eye burning red, the other cool as ice. 

“What are you going to do? Send the Fleet after me? You’ve recalled hundreds of ships and you still don’t have enough protect the core worlds. Consider this my resignation.” The signal terminated. _I don’t need to send the Fleet, girl. There are other ways to destroy a being. _

Deep in the dark heart of Imperial Center, Ysanne Isard paced in front of His empty throne. _It is because of incompetents like her that His reign ended too soon._ _But I shall soon draw together the Empire before me and crush these foolish Rebels. _

“Madame Director, there is a call for you.” An aide stepped from the shadows obscuring the main catwalk. 

“I told you I do not wish to be disturbed.” 

“My pardon, madam. It’s J-5 Quantar encrypted, ma’am.” Ysanne Isard betrayed none surprise she felt. Only the Grand Admirals used that encryption. 

“Transfer the call here and leave me.” With a bow, the aide left to follow her orders. Moments later, the air in front of the throne shimmered and then coalesced into an image of a man in uniform. Although he was not quite a man. The blue tint of the holo hid the color of his skin, but no hologram could hide those glowing red eyes. 

“Grand Admiral Thrawn,” she managed to keep from sneering. _He may have his uses, but Palpatine clearly wasn’t thinking when He commissioned this creature. _ “What a pleasant surprise. No holocoding. Am I to assume that you have changed your mind?” 

Upon assuming control of the Empire, Isard recalled much of the Fleet to Imperial Center to protect the Core Worlds from any attempted intrusions by the Rebels. Several Fleet Officers had balked outright at the order; others simply refused to acknowledge it. Thrawn’s banishment to the Unknown Regions had allowed him to excuse his lack of acknowledgement with distance. Transmissions often failed to penetrate the far off void without special holocoding. The lack of it indicated Thrawn’s Fleet had returned to civilization. 

“Nonsense, Madame Director. Holocoding is not the only technology at my disposal. I remain loyal to my final orders issued by the Emperor.” 

“Than to what do I owe the _pleasure_ of this call?” She could no longer keep disgust from her voice. 

“Word has reached me of the Empire’s internal discord. Although I agree with your decision to dispose of that foolish council, Pestage’s loss is regrettable. He could have been a point around which to rally.”

“Pestage was an incompetent traitor. The Empire cannot rally around such a man,” she spat. 

“Nor can they rally around you.” He continued before she could interrupt, “Nor can they rally around me. You forget that we share a common failing. We are not human males.” 

“You’re bordering on sedition Admiral.”

“No, merely stating fact. However, an exchange of political opinions was not the goal of this call. I wish to discuss business.” 

“Business? Surely you’re not turning pirate as well?”

“I assure you, my loyalty is to the Empire.” His chill smile did nothing to reassure Isard. “I find myself trying to complete my work with the wrong tools.”

“Continue.”

“I would like some new ones.” The phrase was neither a demand nor a request. _He plays this game well. _

“That won’t be happening. The putting down this Rebellion requires most of my assets. The idiocy of my military leaders is not helping.” The glare of her mismatched made sure he knew the intended targets of her comment included him. 

“Which is why I propose a trade. I have several seasoned crews and vessels I would be willing to trade for certain, less experienced individuals.” Her brows rose. “For instance, Captain Ait Convarion’s _talents_ are being wasted here on the Outer Rim. I’m sure a disgruntled Admiral like Pellaeon would be more than capable of taking over his position.” 

“An Admiral for a Captain, I think not.” 

“An Admiral and a Star Destroyer for a Captain and three Star Destroyers. Oh, yes, and I require a pilot.” 

“A pilot. Do you have one in mind or shall I choose?”

“I think you’d best transfer Colonel Fel to the Unknown Regions. I hear he has been rather outspoken in his dissent with your command.”

“You understate his treachery. He gave Brentaal to the Rebels and is now one himself.” 

“So I have heard. You will transfer him, nevertheless.” For the first time, his voice was commanding. 

She bristled at his tone. “He is a Rebel now. His loyalty is to them. My _Lusankya_ may be able to rectify the situation.”

“No. Just see that he meets my emissary at Ansion in two weeks along with Pellaeon. I will see to his loyalties.” 

“I trust my new Star Destroyers will be in system by then?” 

“As you wish, Madame Director. It has been a pleasure.” He bowed as the holo faded, leaving Isard much to think about. 

***

“Wasn’t the helmet a bit big for him?” Reina Faleur inquired, spearing a piece of her broiled nerf with her fork. 

“All Corellians are born with big heads, ma’am, but not that big,” Soontir shot with a smile, reaching to take a sip of wine. 

“Oh yes, Booster’s helmet was huge on him but that made it all the better. There he was, dressed only in a diaper and this huge helmet teetering on his head, while pretending to fly around the hanger, arms outspread.” Those seated around the table laughed, save for Wedge, whose head was currently buried in his hands. _I’m never going to live this down._

They sat in the officer’s club on Ralltiir, which was surprisingly cheerful, with an upbeat jizz band and bright lighting. It helped that the food was the best that Wedge had eaten in a while. The men wore their dress uniforms, but the women had donned sparkling evening gowns. Syal had maintained her black hair, not wishing to be recognized by adoring fans. 

“Syal, please, no more. At this rate Tycho will have enough blackmail on me to last to Corel goes nova.” 

“Just be glad Wes isn’t here, Veggies,” Tycho replied. 

Wedge groaned. “If he ever learns about that nickname, I’ll find karets in my boots, peas in my drawers, and squanar in my bed. It’s never to leave this table, understand.” He shot his offended officer look around the table, but the grins remained.

“Yes, Veggies,” they chorused, breaking into laughter_. I’m doomed._

Reina patted his arm. “It alright, I’ll see that Janson doesn’t put anything in your bed.” She winked. 

Wedge cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So Winter, how was Esseles?” 

“Our mission went well. Esseles fell easily after the Admiral took out the Star Destroyer guarding the planet.” She put down her fork. “It was odd though, almost like they wanted us to take the planet. Certain high priority data files were wiped clean from the central computer system, but others were intact. Troops heavily guarded tactically undesirable areas, while other important areas were left defenseless.” She pushed a lock of her white hair from her face. 

“Do you think there’s a spy?” Tycho questioned. 

“Yes. The consensus is that they left Esseles in the hands of fool, as they did Brentaal. The data agrees with that opinion. But things begin to change when you factor in your mission to K’Vath. The Lumanovae Resort broke your identities as soon as you arrived and there was a heavy Imperial presence where there used to be none. I don’t like it.” 

Wedge avoided looking at Fel. _No need to cause trouble. Especially with Syal back._ “Are there any suspects?” 

Winter shook her head. “None yet. General Cracken hasn’t setup an investigation.” 

“We’ll worry about who is a spy later. For now, I’m content to enjoy my last day of leave. Lady Winter, may I interest you in a dance?” Tycho offered his arm to Winter. 

“You may, gentle sir.” She gave him a peck on the check as he whisked her off to the dance floor. 

Syal turned to the couple next to her. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you, Reina. I’m glad the two of you have each other. Although, I still remember him running around teasing Myra that she had coonyaras.” She looked at Wedge. “You had her in tears before she slugged you, and then you were both crying.”

“Myra? And here I thought you didn’t get out much. It sounds like you had the girls all over you at an early age,” Reina teased. 

“Honestly, I expected to find Veggies and Myra happily married with a nephew I could spoil. I think Mom and Booster even worked out betrothal arrangement.”

“What!” Wedge paled. “I could never marry Mirax. She’s my sister. My other sister,” he amended. 

“Mirax Terrik? That smuggler that helped us out on Ciutric?” Fel questioned. 

“Yes. She’s an old family friend. We grew up together.”  
  
“Mirax is helping her father? I thought Mom and Dad were trying to convince her that there is more to life then smuggling spice past Corsec.” Syal looked at Wedge in concern. 

“Actually, Mirax took over the _Pulsar Skate_ after Booster got sent to Kessel. She runs an, er, exotics trade. She specializes in art and other rare trinkets.” He squeezed her hand across the table. “She’s happy with what she’s doing and even does some occasional runs for the New Republic.” 

Syal sighed. “So much has changed. Booster sent to Kessel. You a pilot instead of an architect, Mom and Dad gone…” her voice trailed off and she blinked rapidly. 

A beeping issued from a comlink. “Sorry, that’s mine.” Reina thumbed her comlink on. “Gather One here.” She listened moment. “Confirmed.” Shutting her comlink off, she gathered her coat. “I’m sorry, it’s my turn to run.” 

“I’ll call you,” Wedge said as he gave her a peck on the cheek, helping her shrug on her coat. 

“I think I’d better leave as well, Tir, I feel a bit tired.” Syal rose from her seat, followed by Soontir. 

“Actually, Soontir would you mind if I escorted Syal back?” 

“No, I’ll steal a dance with Winter and then make our goodbyes.” He squeezed Syal’s hand. “I’ll see you in our quarters.” 

Wedge took Syal’s elbow and guided her to the door. Once out in Ralltiir’s streets, he slowed his pace. “So…” _What do you say to a sister that you barely remember?_ Despite being back at Ralltiir for week, Wedge had not yet had the chance to speak with her alone. Or, had not yet made time to talk. 

“So…” _At least I’m not the only one. _

“It was quite a shock when Fel told me about you. I never made the connection between Wynssa Starflare, galactic sweetheart and Syal Antilles, big sister.” 

“I didn’t mean to abandon you. I was going to come back, if only to show Mom and Dad that I wasn’t being foolish. It took a while to get ‘discovered.’ I waitress-ed at a tapcaf on Imperial Center for two years. Every night I returned to my apartment, I thought of coming home. But I kept picturing how Mom would say ‘I told you so’ and everyday I went out and auditioned again.” Tears glistened on her cheek. 

Wedge gently squeezed her hand. “She missed you. I know she regretted the fight. Dad forbid me from talking about you in front of her, but I caught her sometimes late at night crying in the kitchen, holding that holo we took for Empire Day.” 

“When I finally got a part, I was so happy I almost called home. But I kept telling myself to wait, until I became so successful even she couldn’t deny it. I kept delaying and delaying and then it was too late,” she explained bitterly. “When I finally tried to call, the com operator said that Gus Treta hadn’t had a fueling station in over a year; that it had exploded. I thought you were dead.” Her voice took on a pleading tone. 

“I know. I thought you were dead as well. Booster helped Mom and Dad search for you after you left, and I figured if he couldn’t find anything, there was nothing to be found.” 

“You should have seen me after I saw that wanted poster. Kinra, my makeup artist, and I were eyeing the Rebel wanted posters on the holonet. She seemed think that a Rebel named Han Solo was pretty cute.” 

Wedge snorted. “I bet Soontir loved that.” 

“He had a few choice words when he found out. Something about an insane scoundrel who dishonored the Imperial Navy.” She smiled. 

“Sounds about right.” 

“Well, Kirna thought you were pretty cute, too. At first, I thought you were just another Antilles. But then she said your name was Wedge…” She turned away slightly. “I cried for hours. I didn’t know if I should be happy that you were alive or horrified that you were a Rebel. Soontir was on tour, which was for the best. I didn’t know what to tell him, if at all.” 

Wedge pulled her into a hug. “It’s alright. We’re together now. You, me, and Soontir. Now all we need is for Mirax to show up with Booster in tow and we’ll be a typical Corellian family.” _One I have every intention of holding on to. _

*** 

“Settle down, I know you all enjoyed your leaves despite our little skirmish, but it’s time to get back to work. Admiral Ackbar has cleared us for duty just in time to give us another impossible assignment.” Nrin took his seat behind Lieutenant Celchu. _About time we get to take the fight back to the Imps. _

“Our target will be Chandrilla. I’ll be meeting with the Admiral and several others over the course of the week to discuss tactics, but we will be starting sims immediately. Chandrilla is heavily guarded and I want us to be in top form.” 

“Before we head to the sim room, it’s my pleasure to announce we’ll be adding some new hardware to the squadron.” A smile touched his lips. 

“More pilots?” questioned Feylis, eagerness in her voice. 

“New X-Wings?” asked Hobbie, a tinge of hope entered his voice. 

“’Fraid not. Lieutenant Celchu, attention.” Tycho snapped into a spine strait pose, his face schooled into impassivity. “For your tireless work as Rogue Squadron’s Executive Officer, the command abilities demonstrated on Mrlsst and Malrev IV, and your excellence as a pilot, I am proud to present you the rank of Captain.” He leaned forward as Wedge pinned an extra pip to his insignia. They exchanged crisp salutes. 

The Rogues around Nrin clapped and he joined in. _As a Captain, Tycho can leave to command his own squadron, escaping Rogue Squadron’s curse. He and Winter can be happy._

As Tycho returned to his seat with heart-felt backslaps, Wedge called out another name. “Mr. Derek Klivian, attention.” As Hobbie snapped to attention, a frown passed over his face. “For your years of service to this squadron and for the command abilities displayed in the K’Vath System, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Lieutenant.” 

After receiving his pip, Hobbie saluted and made to return to his seat. “Not so fast, Lieutenant. I’m not finished with you.” A second envelope appeared from his pocket. From it, he pulled a small silver medal. “For your selfless bravery above Alkatha, I award you this Commendation of Bravery. Congratulations, Hobbie.” 

Looking down at his new decor, Hobbie sighed. “I suppose this means that I get to do that again.” _Not if you die. Not if we all die._

“Probably. Welcome to my life.” Wedge turned to address the rest of the assembly. “And now in celebration, our new Captain and Lieutenant will be leading us in a few sims. To the sim room.” 

As Nrin exited the room, he was stopped by a hand on his elbow. “Nrin, we need to talk.” Antilles brown eyes were hard, but warm. _This is probably about that bigoted Quarren space slug getting what he deserved._

Once the amphitheatre had emptied, the Captain slapped the door control, sealing the room. “Nrin, do you believe you are fit for active duty?” 

“Yes, sir.” His schooled any emotion from his voice. 

“Funny, because I don’t agree. Neither does Captain Celchu. Neither does Lieutenant Kilvian. Tell me why we disagree.” _Not ‘ Tell me why you disagree’._ _He is trying to trap me._

“Captain Celchu believes I am unstable as evidenced by the fight I started while Lieutenant Kilvian was influenced by remarks made by Plourr over an open channel. You are simply following the opinions of your subordinates.” 

Antilles face remained impassive as he nodded. “And my gut feeling. Are those opinions wrong?” 

“Yes, sir. I have demonstrated myself to be a capable pilot and warrior under considerable distress. Although I have undergone personal emotional trauma, my duty remains clear.” _I need to avenge Ibtisam. No Imp deserves to live, not when someone like she is dead. _

The Captain let out his breath in a sigh. “I don’t trust you, Nrin. It hurts to say that but until you’ve come to terms with Ibtisam’s death, I can’t trust you. Unfortunately, I need good pilots too much to scrub you.” His voice became ice cold. “But here this, if you put your wingman in any danger as a result of any grief-crazed vengeance, I will personally see to it that you will never fly again. Understood?” 

_I understand. I will have to learn to bury it deep. And at the right moment, it will be released like a kraken from the black fathoms, crushing my enemies. _


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

“Colonel, wait!” Soontir Fel caught a glimpse of white hair threading its way through the crowded hall outside the main hanger bay.

“Lady Winter, can I help you?” he greeted Tycho’s girlfriend. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Her green eyes were duller than usual and there was a hardness to her features that hadn’t been there before. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yes, I’m just worried about Tycho. Seven Star Destroyers are nothing to laugh at. I just wanted to say goodbye, but I can’t find him.” She glanced down, and then into his eyes. “Could you give him something for me?” a hopeful note entered her voice. 

“I can do that, yes. I assume you have a datacard for me to deliver?” 

“Yes,” she smiled in relief. “I left it in my shuttle. My team and I are about ready to head out. Do you mind coming with me to pick it up?” 

“Lead the way.” She smiled, grabbing his hand, tugging him towards a shuttle sitting to the side of the main hanger. Pilots rushed past, tugging on helmets. The whine of repusorlifts filled the air. 

Once in the shuttle, she began rooting around in an overhead compartment. “Here it is.” She turned towards the Colonel and fired a single stun shot into his chest. He collapsed with a thump. Closing the ramp, she moved into the cockpit. She removed a small device from beneath the primary control panel. Flicking it on, she slowly smiled. “Grania here, I have the package.” 

*** 

“All squadrons prepare for realspace reversion.” Control’s voice boomed clearly in Tycho’s com. He began to run his preflight. 

“Wake up, Summer. It’s almost showtime.” His astromech droid responded with a rubber blat. “I know you don’t sleep. Just help me on the preflight.” _I hate new droids. It takes too long to break them in. _He previous astromech had driven his ailing X-Wing into a pair of TIEs, saving Tycho from their wrath but earning him the wrath of Winter. _Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing_. A smile played on his lips as he thought of her. He had tried to say goodbye before the mission, only to discover she had departed with Kapp Dendo’s commandos the day before. Sighing, he thumbed two final switches to their startup positions. “Two Flight, this is Nine. Check in when ready,” he called out on his com. 

“Eight, standing by.”

“Nine, reading 98% in my upper port, but within acceptable levels.” 

“Eleven here, let’s vape some Imps.” 

“Where’s Ten?” Tycho would be flying a shield trio with Plourr and Fel, but Fel was nowhere to be seen. _Odd, he’s usually punctual_. _A byproduct of Imperial training._

“Probably hiding under his bunk from the big, bad Star Destroyers,” Plourr shot. 

“Knock it off, Eleven.” _Maybe Plourr could use some Imperial training_.Flipping frequencies, Tycho voiced his concerns to Wedge. “Boss, Ten’s a no show.” 

“Roger that, hopefully he’s just having a long goodbye. I’ll alert the deck officer. Fly a standard pattern until he arrives. Good luck out there. May the Force be with you.” 

“You too, Wedge.” Outside the magcon field, the stars ceased their pseudo-motion. 

“Rogue Squadron, launch by flight.” Four X-Wings with red stripes exited the cruiser’s cavernous hanger. 

“Our turn, Two Flight,” Tycho ordered. 

“What about Ten?” 

“He’ll join us when he can.”

“We don’t need his sorry six to vape Imps. Maybe if he’s lucky I’ll leave him a few.” 

_On second thought, Imperial training would just make her even more deadly. And arrogant._

Exiting the magcon field, Tycho studied the battle around the cruiser. Two Star Destroyers were moving into position to trade broadsides with _Home One_. In the distance, dancing green and red lights marked where three other Star Destroyers faced the rest of Admiral Ackbar’s fleet. And then the TIEs were upon them. 

“Break by pairs and keep an eye on the clock,” Rogue Leader’s voice sounded over the comm.. 

“Ladies first,” Tycho said to Plourr over their private channel. 

“In that case, I’m on your wing Nine,” she shot back as she moved into position off his port S-Foil. Pulling back on his stick, his X-Wing pulled into a tight climb to follow a TIE starfighter pair. Plourr mimicked the move. The TIEs bobbed and weaved, preventing a missile lock. _It seems these pilots have a desire to live. _Locking his lasers to quad mode, he lined up a shot and fired a single burst. Red light burned through the ball cockpit. The starfighter’s wingman disappeared in a similar ball of light. 

Abruptly, green light streaked towards his bow, scattering on his shields. Arching down, he maneuvered out of the deadly light. “Wahoo, you’re down one Celchu,” Plourr yelled over the com as the TIE rolled out of control, starboard solar panel missing, spiraling down towards the blue seas of Chandrilla. 

“Sloppy kill, Eleven. That one doesn’t count. And monitor your com speak.” 

“Yessir, Captain Ice, sir. We can’t all be certified surgeons like you.” _Which is why so many of us die horrible, long, painful deaths. If I’m going to kill, might as well make the process as painless as possible, for the both of us. _

“Got a flight coming up at one o’clock.” Four TIE starfighters screamed towards where One Flight was currently dealing with three Interceptors, looking for targets of opportunity. 

“I see ‘em. Missiles or lasers?” 

“Lasers, we’ll need the missiles when the other two destroyers arrive.” They had timed there attack to occur when two of the seven Star Destroyers guarding Chandrila were in the planets shadow, unable to assist their comrades immediately. 

Tailing the four TIEs, Plourr shot off a few unlinked laser bursts, attempting to wing the fighters. Tycho held his fire. “Slow down and herd them starboard.”

“What? They’ll get away,” Plourr’s confusion was evident over the com. 

“Just do it.” He suited action to words, easing off his throttle and sideslipped starboard, separating himself from Plourr. With his new position back and slightly to the left of the enemies’ line of flight, he flicked his targeting computer. _Gotcha_. The TIEs yawed tightly, risking Plourr’s erratic shots rather than face a possible missile lock. A shot pieced the viewport of one TIE. It continued to yaw into the path of its fellow, and vaporized instantly in the collision. Two X-Wings flew through the quickly expanding debris clouds of the other two fighters. 

“Thanks for the setup.” 

“No problem, Seven.” 

“You’re giving away our kills, Nine.” Plourr sounded a bit cross. 

Tycho laughed. “Nope, just giving away our chances to be killed.” 

“Rogues, the Nightsiders have arrived. We’re clear for our runs. Disengage and head for Vector Four-Four-One.” 

“I read you, Lead. Okay, Two Flight. Our target is the _Irascible_. I’ll take first run. Eight, you’ve got second.” _Home One _scored a winning volley on one of the ships it had engaged. Fire licked the engines and the command bridge of the Star Destroyer. Escaped pods swarmed away from the wreckage. On the other side of this tableau, two more Star Destroyers cleared the terminus. 

The eight X-Wings of Rogue Squadron sped towards the Star Destroyers, their S-Foils closed to pick up precious sped. “Lead, they’re launching their squadrons.” Feylis’ voice was tight. 

“I see that. Keep S-Foils closed and evade. If you can get off a snap shot, fine. No missiles.” The wave of TIEs quickly approached, not yet raining deadly fire upon the X-Wings. Suddenly, two of the TIEs exploded. Finally, Tycho lined up a shot and depressed his trigger, vaporizing a third, while a fourth and fifth turned into magnificent fireballs to his right. 

“Nice shooting, Five.” 

“Not bad yourself, Lead. Although you and Nine are a bit slow on the trigger. You’re getting old, reflexes are slowing down.” The wave broke upon him before Tycho could respond to Wes’ remark. He began to weave, yawing and banking, avoiding rain of lasers. Sparing a moment, he cranked his inertial compensator to full, as the forces from the continuous Dutch rolling were making him a bit ill. _ Haven’t felt this bad since that night after Endor. _

“Die murders!” _Nrin. Sith._ Already, he could see several debris clouds forming, an X-Wing with open S-Foils pursing a TIE. Rogue Squadron sped on. 

“Leader, we have to go back for him! There’s too many of them!” Seven pleaded. 

“Negative. We have a job to do. Get ready for your runs.” Although his voice was calm, Tycho knew Wedge’s heart was aching. _He’s going to loose another one._

“Rogue Leader, this Green Leader. We’ll clean your tails.” Turning slightly, Tycho could barely make out the slim A-Wings as they began to tear the Imperial Fighters to pieces. 

“Many thanks, Green Lead. If you wander across my errant pilot, send him along home.” The two flights of X-Wings banked in opposite directions to begin their runs. 

“Strike foils to attack position. Eleven, sync your astromech to Summer and then delay by two seconds. Fire on my mark.” He switched on his targeting computer, thumbed his weapons to missiles, and turned his inertial compensator back down. The _Irascible_ filled Tycho’s viewport. Green light lanced towards the two approaching X-Wings. Bobbing and weaving, he looped around the destroyer’s super structure, closing in on the command tower superstructure. Summer gave a steady tone as Tycho dropped his aiming reticle over the portside shield generator. “Fire!”

His proton torpedos streaked towards the shield generators, but stopped short as they splashed against shields. Two seconds later, Plourr’s missiles impacted the weakened shields, bringing them down. As the Tycho and his wingmate darted down the backside of the destroyer, Avan’s and Feylis’s missiles tore through the command tower. “Looks like the Imps have caught a bad case of TRD,” crowed Plourr. 

“Let’s make sure it’s acute. Head for the fighter bay.” They danced along the bottom of the Star Destroyer, evading turbolaser fire. 

“These guys couldn’t hit the…” Plourr’s comment ended in static. 

“Plourr! Eleven report.” Tycho banked around, pulling hard on his stick. _Where is she?_ “Summer, find Eleven.” His astromech responded with a mournful tone. _Shavit_. “Plourr this isn’t funny,” desperation tinged his whispered comment. _Shavit. Shavit._ “Lead, this is Nine. I’ve lost Eleven. Commencing run on hanger bay.” Without waiting to hear Wedge’s reply, he cut his com. 

The gaping hole of the hanger bay lay before him. He sent his remaining two proton torpedoes streaking into the maw. _This one’s for you, Plourr._ Pulling on the stick, he rolled up and away from the burning _Irascible. _

He turned his com back on. “Lead, this is Nine. _Irascible_ is out of the fight.” 

“I read you Nine.” Wedge’s voice was heavy. _I’m sorry. I failed her, not you._ “Two Flight, regroup with One Flight. _Home One_ reports the fighting is almost over, but they could use some help cleaning up some TIEs. Nine, you’re my wing.” 

“Understood, sir.” He brought his group into formation with the other Rogues, while he settled into position off Wedge’s starboard side. 

“Tyke?” Wedge’s voice came over their private channel.

“I’m here.” 

“She was a good pilot. There was nothing you could have done.” 

“I know. But…it just hurts. I’ll be fine.” 

“I know you will. What do you say we vape some TIE’s?” 

“If you can’t beat on the rookies in the sims to cheer you up, vaping Imps is the next best thing.” 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

“Back so soon? How many holes do I have to patch?” Nrin spun around, startled by Koyi’s voice. The pink-skinned Twi’lek’s face wore smudges of lubricant and a concerned expression. “Are you alright?” _Go away_. 

Nrin crossed his arms, tentacles twitching. “I was ordered to return to _Home One_.”

Koyi looked hard at him, then turned and whistled to a nearby tech. “Listen Carse, I’m going to go on break for a bit. Give me a call when the Rogues return.” When the tech left, she turned back to Nrin. “Come on, you’re getting me a cup of caf.” 

_She sees too much. I need to distract her._ “I think not. You need to be here to see to the ships and I need to be prepared to return to duty when Command returns to their senses.” 

She grabbed him hard by his shoulder, steering him away from the hanger. “I’m the Rogues’ Chief Technician, so fixing their problems comes first.”

“Then you should return to your duty. I’m sure Hobbie will present you with work shortly.” _Not even a laugh, kriff, she’s on to me_.

“I see a problem with a Rogue and I am going to do what I can to fix it.” They were silent as they waited for the Master at Arms and several of his personnel to pass. 

“What are they doing?” Nrin tried to change the subject. 

Koyi sighed. “They’re doing a ship-wide search for Colonel Fel. He never reported for duty. His wife said he left on time, but no one’s seen him since.” _Murdering Imperial gundark. He’ll betray us all._

Their journey to the pilot lounge passed in silence. With all squadrons currently engaged in combat, the small room was empty. A caf pot warmed on the counter of the small, locked bar emitting pleasant wafts of steam. Koyi poured herself a cup. “Do you want to start or shall I?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he harrumphed. 

“Nrin, you have to let it go. You have to let _her_ go,” she pleaded. 

“I have, which is why I continue to honor her, by fighting for what she fought for.” He waved his hand in a dismissive manner. 

“No.” She tried to meet his eyes, but he looked away. “You dishonor her fight. She would never have left her wingman in a lurch. Captain Antilles is flying into a pitched battle without a wingmate. How are you going to feel if he dies out there?” Ice flooded his gut. 

“He is a survivor. The best pilot we have. I know he will be safe.” _He must survive. But one errant laser from a TIE I wasn’t there to vape…_

“You’re beginning to see my point. You can’t fly like this.”

“I must fly. I must kill the Imperial murders, for her sake.” _Oh Ibtisam, come back to me. You were worth a hundred of them. _

“So you’ll go up there and fly and vape Imperials and watch as more and more of your friends die because you’re such a mess that you can’t protect them.” She turned from him. “I don’t wish to be around someone so selfish. To assist in the murder of my friends. I’ll assign you a different tech.” She took her caf and walked out the door, never looking back. 

Nrin remained where he stood, eyes not seeing the empty doorway, but the emptiness inside himself.

***

_Another pilot added to the Rogue’s Roll of the Dead. Another bright life snuffed before it could truly shine. Another person I’ve ordered to their death. _

“To Plourr, one of the best pilots I’ve ever met,” Avan raised his glass and downed its contents. The others gathered in the pilot lounge followed suit. Avan stood next to where Feylis was seated on a small couch. Wedge sat across the room, nursing his sniffer of Whyren’s. _I’m glad that those two have gotten together. Hopefully, their relationship will survive this squadron. Unlike so many others._

“To a princess who could tear the ears off a gundark and smile while doing it.” Tycho led the next round. _He looks like he’s handling things well. As long as he has Winter, I think he can survive anything. May I never see the day those two are parted. _

“So boss,” Wes said, plunking himself in the chair next to Wedge. Hobbie followed suit on his other side. “I’m curious. Why a Corellian wake?”

“Because the Eiattuian equivalent calls for a thuvasaur and a couple of vibroblades?” Wedge responded lightly. 

Wes snorted. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me that Captain Hero of the New Republic couldn’t have gotten us all passes to Eiattu for the funeral.” 

Putting his drink down, Wedge sighed. “I think Plourr would have been happier knowing her friends celebrated her passing, rather than mourning it. I didn’t want it to be soiled by politics on Eiattu. There is turmoil concerning who will claim the throne and whether Eiattu will remain a monarchy at all. I don’t envy Rial, trying to deal with her death and the political backstabbing.” 

“She’ll be missed. By her people, and most of all by her friends,” Hobbie intoned solemnly. 

_Clear skies, Plourr. _

“Yes, who else are we going to find willing to go Tycho baiting?” Wes shot his rolled up napkin at the back of Tycho’s head. It hit its target before falling on the floor and rolling under the small table that held sandwiches and drinks. 

Tycho turned and glared. “It obviously won’t be you. You wouldn’t survive long enough in my sights.” Wes stuck out his tongue. 

Wedge leaned back in his chair and moaned, “I’m commanding a squadron of children.” 

Ringing tapping of metal on glass halted Hobbie’s rejoinder. Avan returned to his feet, this time pulling Feylis to stand with him. “Friends, I am told that a wake celebrates life. So, I think it’s fitting that I announce that Feylis and I announce our intentions of continuing life together, permanently. We’re getting married.” A cheer rose from the Rogues, and the couple was bombarded with backslapping well-wishers. 

As he gave his congratulations to the couple, he noticed Nrin had left to his corner to give his own congratulations. _He’s been quiet all night._ Wedge hadn’t pulled Nrin aside at the debriefing. In fact, he hadn’t said a word at all to him since yesterday’s battle at Chandrilla. _Unless he recognizes he needs help, I can’t help him. _

Standing outside the group, lost in his thoughts, Wedge did not notice Nrin approach him. “Captain, may I have a word?” Wedge’s head snapped up, surprised. 

“Yes. Come, let’s step into the hall.” The corridor was deserted, most officers busy with their duties, celebrating the liberation of Chandrilla, or mourning their dead. “What is it?” 

“I’m sorry I deserted you. I was your wingman and I let you down.” 

_It seems heartfelt. Perhaps he’s coming around. _Wedge kept his face neutral and did not speak. 

“Sir, I’d like to request leave from the squadron.” Nrin’s voice was thick. 

“Why?” 

“I need time away. Time to put Ibtisam’s death in perspective.” He hesitated. “I’m not even sure I want to fly anymore.” 

“Apology accepted, Nrin. And I’ll see that you get your leave.” Wedge laid his hand on Nrin’s shoulder. “You’ll always be welcome in Rogue Squadron. But it’s your choice. Think it over on leave and get some help.” He smiled. “And remember, you have a whole room of friends back there, and every one of them is willing to help you.” 

Nrin turned to look into the lounge. His eyes fell on Koyi, who was currently giving a toast to the pilot that had worshiped her and given her techs so much grief and so many bruises. “I hope they’re still my friends,” he said quietly. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

“Get out.” Her voice was flat, her back turned to him. She stood gazing at a photo of Corellia tacked to the blank wall of the Spartan quarters. 

“Syal, I’m sorry.” His voice held regret. “But you have to see it from our perspective. We had two missions go awry because the Imps got wind of more than they should have been able to and then he disappears. They have cause to suspect him.” 

“He’d never leave me.” Syal turned to face her brother, rage barely contained in her voice. “You told me yourself how hard he looked for me. Why would he abandon me after he just got me back?” _Tir would never leave me._

Wedge ran his hand through his already disheveled hair. “I don’t know,” he sighed. 

“Isard must have sent someone to kill him. He’s probably lying hurt somewhere on board. Help me look,” she pleaded. _Please let him be safe._

Wedge gently took her arms into his hands, bracing her. “Syal, security searched the entire ship. He’s nowhere on board. He was last seen heading toward the hanger. The X-Wing he was assigned is still here, but one of the Lambda shuttles is missing. Everyone else has been accounted for. There are no signs of struggle anywhere on the ship. They’re even going through the holo footage to see if someone managed to sneak on board without notice. He’s disappeared, probably on his own free will.” _Oh, Wedge. You don’t understand. He’d never leave me. _

“So you’re just giving up?” Tears now trailed down her cheeks. She raised her voice. “You’re just going to call him a traitor and forget about it? And me, the wife of a traitor?” 

“Don’t do this, Syal. Winter is handling the investigation. Trust her, she’ll find the truth.” He enveloped her in a hug. “And you’ll be my sister, no matter what.” 

Breaking away, she pulled back, angered. “You mean you’ll protect me after they find Soontir guilty of treason.” 

“If that happens, yes.” _And you think it will. Never._

“He’s not a traitor.” 

“He betrayed the Empire to keep you safe. How do we know he wouldn’t betray the New Republic for the same reasons?” Wedge tried to reason. 

“Because I’m here.” Tears formed little rivulets down her cheeks. “We talked about whether we should stay or run. But he pointed out that Isard would find us either way, and if he fought, there was the chance that Isard would be toppled before she could have us killed.” She looked at Wedge. “And I wanted to stay here, with you.”

“And I want you to stay, too. The investigation will find the truth. I don’t know where Soontir is, or why he left, but he will be found.” Although his tone had started comforting, it had hardened towards the end.

“And what are you going to do when you find him? Kill him?” she accused. 

“The punishment for treason is death.”

“Then you’ll have to kill me, too. I love him, Wedge. I won’t stand idly by.” Her spine straightened, her eyes hardened, and she crossed her arms. The tears had stopped flowing. 

Gently, Wedge tried to reason with her. “I love you too, Syal. I know you love him. But I want what’s best for you. If his loyalty is swayed so easily, you’re better off without him.” 

“You’re my little brother, so stuff this big brother act in the trash compactor. I can figure out what is best for me without any help from you. Get out.” 

“Syal, I…”

“Get out.” 

***

The air in the security center was cold and crisp. Unlike much of _Home One_ the humidity was kept low for the sake of the sensitive electronics. Bright glowpanels illuminated the windowless room, crammed with computer terminals. Among the humming machines, Winter sat with her head in her hands, elbows propped on the keypad, ignoring the incessant beeping that told her the data input was being overloaded. 

“Shavit.” She said quietly to herself. _Three weeks, and still no sign of Fel. _

The door whooshed open, admitting concerned looking Tycho. “Hey, you missed diner. I brought you some food.” 

“MREs or real food?” She smiled slightly. 

“Actually, it was a choice between yellow lumpy gravy and grey lumpy gravy. So you got the yellow. You could use a little color.” He presented her with a plate piled with roasted nerf strips and squanar with gravy. 

“Smells heavenly. You ate already?” She motioned toward the chair on her left before sampling the nerf strips. 

“Wedge and I had a working meal. Nothing like going over requisition forms over diner.” He gave her a quick peck on the forehead before sitting down. “No time to do paperwork with all this patrols, especially with only half a squadron.” 

“Do you have patrol tonight?” 

“Nope. I plan on getting some rack time,” he said with a grin. _He’s been hanging around Wedge too long. That grin is catching._

“Well, your bunk is going to be cold and lonely. I’ve got another 200 hours of footage to cover.” She glared slightly at him and cued up the next clip. 

“Need some help? I don’t like you working so long like this. You need to take care of yourself.” 

“I can take care of myself just fine, flyboy.” She sighed. “I need to be the one to look at the footage. I can compare what I learned from interviews with what the security cams observed quicker in my mind.” _Sometimes a holographic memory is a blessing_. 

He reached over and caressed her cheek with his hand. “Just don’t work to hard. I don’t like seeing a frown on that pretty face.” She leaned into his caress and nuzzled his hand. “So, find anything, oh Master Investigator?”

“A few inconsistencies, but nothing world shattering.” She pulled up four holocam feeds. “It appears that Captain La’fey is having an affair.” A young Twi’lek Ensign crept across the screen and entered a room, closing the door quickly. “Mr. Wrertly has a brisk trade in, er, stimulating holos. He’s currently nursing a black eye earned from asking Mrs. Fel if she’d like to be a holostar.” The clip showed Syal delivering a solid blow to Mr. Wrertly’s left eye. 

Tycho let out a low whistle. “Looks like we have the wrong Antilles leading the squad. She punches better.”

“Oh, and you can use this one for blackmail.” She brought a second clip to the forefront and increased the elapse time. It showed a plain door similar to those in the pilots’ quarters. Nothing happened. 

Tycho blinked. “Okay, blackmail who? The door the next time it closes on me? Hey door, I have footage of you being shut. For hours.”

Winter punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Apparently dear Lieutenant Janson’s night life isn’t as active as he would have us believe.” 

A small evil grin touched Tycho’s lips. “Make a copy of that. I owe him one.” 

Winter’s face fell as she called up the last clip. “This is the corridor outside the hanger at the time of Fel’s disappearance.” The tall, broad pilot strode briskly down the corridor, but stopped just under the holo-recorder. He spoke to someone out of view of the cam. Then, he disappeared out of view, into the hanger. “We know that he never made it to his X-Wing. From the time stamp on the cam, to the time the _Litvia_ was stolen, only ten minutes passed. I’m sure whoever he’s speaking to had something to do with his disappearance. I have yet to find a single cam that had a line of sight on our mystery person. Whoever it was knew how to evade security. By his face, Fel knew whoever it was and went willingly. Mind you, he could have been kidnapped or killed in those ten minutes.” 

“No one saw who he was talking to?”

She shook her head. “The hanger was noisy and busy right before the attack. No one remembers anything. I can’t even find the _Litvia_’s exit vector in the computer. It’s been erased or was never recorded in the first place, a serious breach in protocol.”

“So we still know nothing.” Tycho leaned back in his chair. “We find one Fel and another goes missing. They’re getting good a disappearing.”

“Cracken is keeping eye out to see if he surfaces somewhere, but he’s closing the investigation on this end after I finish slogging through the last of the data.” 

“Leaving me so soon?” Worried blue eyes met her own green ones. 

“’Fraid so flyboy. Cracken has a little job for me. I’ll leave you Kapp, though. He’ll keep you out of trouble while I’m gone.” 

“I’d rather he kept you out of trouble.” Concerned laced his voice. 

“As I told you, I can take care of myself. It’s you I’m worried about.” 

Tycho smiled slightly. “Just threaten to punch Wedge again if he doesn’t keep his wingman safe. I’ll be the best protected fighter pilot in the galaxy.” 

“Is he still scared of me?” 

He leaned over and kissed her on the nose. “Utterly terrified.” 

She kissed him gently, quickly on the lips. “You realize I’m suppose to be working.” 

“So take a break. You’re leaving and I want to enjoy every moment I can with you.” 

There lips met again, and all thoughts of work fled Winter’s holographic mind.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 8

“Okay Rogues, form up on _Home One_. We’ve got escort duty.” 

Wes groaned loudly. “Captain, this is the first real action we’ve had for weeks. We don’t even get a piece of it?”

“That’s affirmative, Three. Take Four and head for eleven o’clock high. That sector’s yours. Five and Six, you’ve got one o’clock. Two and I will take twelve o’clock. Keep the dupes off the _Home One_, leave the squints for the A-Wings.” Feylis and Avan broke to starboard, gently arching to their post above and to the right of the Calamari Cruiser. 

Flipping the channel, Wes spoke to Hobbie. “You heard the Great One. Last one there is bantha poodoo.” Engines at full, they looped over the cruiser and slowed as they came on station. “Well, we’re here, and you’re bantha poodoo.” 

“Which means you have bantha poodoo protecting your six.”

“How’s that any different than usual?” 

A vast array of stars lay before them, along with the small ruined world of Caamas. In the distance, drawing ever closer, two Star Destroyers were docked to an orbital platform. Intelligence had received word that two of the formed defenders of Chandrilla had docked at a secret repair facility in the Caamas system. Admiral Ackbar had decided to ensure these ships would never be brought back online. 

“Look at them. Trying to repair those nice holes we placed in their hulls. Tisk, tisk. Don’t they know art when they see it?” 

“Most people consider art nice moss paintings, Ettian silicate tracery, Quarren glass sculpting, that sort of thing.”

“You can’t tell me that an Imp ship full of holes isn’t a beautiful thing.” 

“Five, I suggest you do less talking and more hole punching. The dupes are upon us.” Six lumbering Imperial bombers vectored towards the cruiser, apparently unafraid of the two guardian X-Wings. 

The two Rogues sent lances of red energy towards the bombers, one of which disappeared in a fiery ball of light. Jerking quickly out of the path of the deadly green bolts issued from the avenging TIEs, Wes looped behind them, lining up a second kill. Before he could depress the trigger, a shrill scream issued from his astromech. 

Green bolts drilled his fuselage, silencing the droid in mid-scream. “Six, two squints from behind. Get them off me.” 

“I’m trying, but they have friends.” A burst of ionized static issued from Janson’s com as a blue ion bolt grazed past his ship. “…then dive.”

“Repeat that Six. I couldn’t make it out.” But Hobbie had already started a steep climb, heading on a collision course with Wes’s ship. _Sithspit_. Belatedly recognizing Doc’s Trade, he throttled to full, gaining speed, before pulling a sharp dive down. 

With his inertial compensators dialed down, he could feel the gentle push into his seat, the blood beginning to pool in his brain. Creaks echoed down his X-Wing as the S-Foils flexed under the loading. Light washed over his X-Wing as the two tailing TIE’s fell prey to Hobbie’s lasers. 

“You’re clear, Five.” 

“Thanks, Six. How are you doing?” 

“My little friends decided that they had better things to do, like hammering holes into _Home One_. I’m a little toasted, but it seems to be holding together for now.” 

“Oh, come on Hobbs. Don’t be so optimistic. You’re worrying me.” He pointed his nose towards where two TIE bombers were pounding the _Home One_’s hull_. Oh, no you don’t. Big ships play with big ships, and X-Wings toy with TIEs._

Wes and Hobbie sent bolts of red light searing through the dual-ball cockpits. As the bright fireballs faded, Wedge’s voice crackled over the com. “Bombers are retreating and _Home One_ is in range. Get clear.” The sleek cruiser’s turbolasers unloaded charge after charge into the destroyers and the orbital platform. 

“Boss, those interceptors are back!” Avan panicked voice rang out over the com. Wes glanced at his scanner, noting the four red blurs converging on the pair of Rogues. 

“I’m on my way. ETA two minutes.”

“Negative Lead, Hobbs and I can be there in one. We’re on this one.” After changing his vector, Wes could see the blue glow that marked the presence to the screaming ion engines that gave the TIE fighters their name. 

“Almost there,” Hobbie called out over the com. _Famous last words_. As if responding to Hobbie’s comment, two interceptors broke off their attack, spiraling towards the newcomers. 

Trying to bob his way out of the laser bolts now splashing and scattering against his shields, Wes saw two bolts slice through the bow of Avan’s ship, shattering it in two. As the cockpit was wrenched into pieces, an orange blob floated free, tumbling end over end. 

“Six is EV. I can’t cover him, I’ve got three on my tail.” Their was a slight tremor in her voice, but she remained professional, despite the pain she was surely feeling. _Good girl, don’t fall apart now._

“Okay, Four. Let’s show these guys it’s not nice to mess with a Rogue.” His eyes narrowed, lining the targeting reticle over the squint currently splashing green energy over his shields. A single linked blast from his quad cannons vaporized the TIE. Its wingmate was caught in the wash of the explosion, momentarily throwing the starfighter out of control and into Hobbie’s sights. 

“Two TIEs terminated,” Wes called over his com. “Six is clear for pickup. Need help with yours Five?” 

“They’ve been taken care of.” _Three by herself, nice_. 

“Good job, Five. Care to join us for a dance? I can dance a mean Imperial Waltz. Hobbie’s not much good at it, but he does the Bacta Blitz just fine.” 

“Rogue Squadron, listen up. That battle is over and we’re no longer needed. The shuttle is inbound for pickup. Five, provide cover. Everyone else, back to the hanger.” 

***

The sterile white medical bay was filled with the cloying smell of bacta. An MD droid worked with two technicians to raise a small Chandra Fan from one of the large bacta tanks, but Wedge’s attention centered on the couple seated on a cot not far away. Avan sat propped up by pillows, chest covered with white bandages that hid the worst of his wounds. Feylis sat next to him, tracing a bandage on his hand lightly with her fingers. They were in deep conversation, but looked up as Wedge approached. 

Wedge smiled at the couple. “Avan, glad to see you’re doing alright. I got a message saying the two of you wanted to speak to me?” 

They exchanged glances. “Yessir.” Avan’s brow creased and his eyes closed, steeling himself for whatever he was about to say. “Sir, we’ve both decided to resign our commissions.” 

Wedge blinked. _I didn’t see that missile incoming_. 

“Sir, we both love flying with the Rogues,” Feylis encased Avan’s hand in her own, “but I can’t go through with that again. Having to leave Avan, knowing that he was in trouble but unable to help. I don’t think I can make that kind of decision again.” 

“And my father has been trying to get me to return to the family business. Not that I care much for politics,” he looked at Feylis, “but it’ll give us a chance to start a family. Away from the fighting.” 

Wedge sighed. “You are both extraordinary pilots, and I hate giving you up, but I understand your reasons for leaving.” He smiled warmly at them. “I wish you the best of luck. I’ll be happy knowing the two of you are off contributing to the next generation of Rogues.” 

Avan made a face. “No offense, but if our children show any skill in piloting, don’t be surprised if we send them Salm’s way instead of yours.”

“Oh?” Wedge questioned lightly.

“I’d hate to have Wes Janson anywhere within a ten klick radius of my kids. They’ll be hard enough to handle without him influencing them.” 

***

Wedge strode down the now empty corridor, shoulders hunched. _It’s been a long day._ While learning that Avan had survived had energized him, the battle and the long debriefing that had followed had drained him. 

_And then there was four. _With Avan and Feylis leaving, his squadron was down to a single flight. _All fear the mighty Rogue Flight. The Empire will be shaking in their boots. _Hopefully, the Admiral wouldn’t be able to find another impossible mission before he and Tycho could bring the squadron back up to full strength. Shaking his head, he stopped in front a door and knocked. 

“Syal, it’s me.” When there was no response, he knocked again. “Syal, I know been avoiding me, but please, I just want to talk.” Wedge frowned. It was nearly 2400 hours ship-time, she should be in her room. On the off chance, he punched the door release. To his surprise, it hissed open. 

“Syal?” He entered the lit room. The picture of Corellia still hung on the wall, the double bed was made, its blankets smooth. _Where is she?_ “Syal?” The room was empty. Unlocked and empty. The chair near the small table had been overturned and now rested on its side. “Syal?” Wedge called, his voice panicked. On the table lay a small scrap of flimsy. 

‘I love you Veggies.’


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9

Wedge was once again in a room filled with officers and politicians alike. The room buzzed with conversation as everyone rose from the seats they had been occupying for the past two hours. He made a motion to stand, gathering his data pad and comlink from their places on the table, when a flippered hand rested on his shoulder. 

“Stay a moment, Captain. I have things to discuss with you.” The small conference room emptied, save for himself, Admiral Ackbar, Borsk Fey’la and Leia Organa, who offered Wedge a sad smile. 

“I take it this is not about Colonel Fel’s wife?” Wedge said with a raised brow.

“No, I am afraid that she has disappeared in to the dark fathoms as thoroughly as her husband. Intelligence can find no sign of her, but they will continue looking.” The Admiral looked hard a Wedge. “But her records will be sealed. There is no need to alert the general populous that we have lost Wynssa Starflare.” _And no need to advertise the fact that she’s my sister. _He nodded his thanks to the Admiral. 

“I have new orders for you, Captain,” Ackbar spoke gravelly. 

“Another forced vacation?” Wedge offered in jest.

“I’m afraid not, although it will be a break from the fighting. First, I regret to inform you that you will be losing the service of Lieutenants Janson and Klivian.”

“Sir?” Wedge voiced in confusion.

“They have been reassigned to Corsair Squadron, a training squadron. The two of them will do well teaching the next generation of pilots.” _My pilots relegated to babysitters? They’re going to love this._

“Sir, with all do respect, their skills are better suited to combat.” 

“Yes, and we need more pilots with their skills.” 

Wedge sighed. “So I need to choose ten pilots instead of eight?” 

“Actually, there is a small matter we must take care of before we get to your orders.” The Admiral reached into his breast pocket and handed a small envelope to Leia. “Captain Antilles, it is my pleasure to award you with the rank of Commander.” 

“Sir, I do not feel that…”

“Hush, Commander. Surely you won’t refuse a gift from a Princess,” Leia said with a sly smile, coming forward, insignia in hand. 

“Traitor,” he muttered as she carefully pinned it to his uniform. 

She gave him a peck on the cheek. “We know you too well.” Smiling, she withdrew. 

“Commander, I regret to inform you that Rogue Squadron has been dissolved. As such, you are being reassigned.”

Wedge stared, voiceless, at the Admiral, his jaw slack.

“Wedge, it’s not as bad as it sounds,” Leia said comfortingly. 

Fey’la snorted. “No, after all, Rogue Squadron should have been disbanded long ago.” _You’re just finally getting your wish. _

The newly minted Commander’s temper flared. “With all due respect, _Councilor,_ Rogue Squadron blood has bought you several worlds.”

Admiral Ackbar held up his hand. “Please Commander, Councilor. Now is not the time for turbulent seas. I’m afraid that the fleet has netted all of the worlds it can for the moment. It is time for lures of diplomacy until Intelligence can find us the key to cracking Coruscant.” 

“Commander, you will be joining several of our experienced diplomats on a tour of several worlds, raising support for our push towards the Core. Consider it a vacation, as the diplomats will be doing the real work,” Fey’la sneered. _A way to get me out of the way and let Rogue Squadron’s flame die so that the Bothan’s may shine_. 

“You’ll still get to fly, demonstrations and the like, although you will have to attend those state diners you enjoy so much,” Leia said sympathetically. “At least the food will be better than ship’s fare.” 

“Admiral, I do not wish to accept this mission. To speak frankly, my skills lean more towards destroying things than shaking hands and kissing babies.”

“You have your orders, Commander. You are one of the few heroes of the New Republic we can spare for such a tour.” Fey’la snorted at this. The Admiral continued, “You will be doing the New Republic a greater service than what you can do in the cockpit for the moment. Think of it as a way to gather information on the Fels’ whereabouts.”

“Yessir,” Wedge said, resigned. 

Leia patted his hand. “If it helps, I’ll be right there having fun next to you. Best go pack your dress uniform and say your goodbyes, the _Rebel Dream_ leaves tomorrow morning.” 

***

“Packing already?” Wedge looked up as Tycho entered Wedge’s small quarters. At present, Wedge was stuffing a small shapeless bag with his meager belongs. His white dress coat lay flat on the bed, a holo of his family resting atop it. 

“Figured I might as well do it now. Knowing Wes’ parties, I probably won’t be in any condition to pack tomorrow morning.” 

Tycho plunked himself down in Wedge’s sole chair, leaning it back against the wall. “So, I hear congratulations are in order, Commander,” he said with a grin.

“Quiet you,” Wedge scowled. “I was ambushed by an Alderaanian Princess, so forgive me if I have little patience for smug Alderaanians at present.” 

“Your shots doth wound this poor homeless heart. What tide of the Force brings this ill will of wrathful Corellians against the state of Alderaan?” A pillow to the face stopped Tycho’s diatribe. 

“You’re in a good mood. I take it Command found you something more pleasant that visiting fawning politicians or weaning young recruits?” 

“Cracken requested a pilot with experience in Imperial starfighters and transports, so I volunteered.” 

Wedge’s eyebrows rose. “Cracken. You volunteered for a mission for Intelligence? I take it that it involves a certain female agent?” 

“Not in so many words, but think about it. Winter has been off on a highly secrete mission for a while. Now they’re asking for a pilot with experience in Imperial transports for a long term mission. I think the odds are good, as long as my luck holds. I’m guessing it’ll a nice little assignment of chauffeuring Winter around Coruscant, effortless dodging dangerous speeder traffic, while she plots the Empire’s destruction.” 

A snort issued from Wedge. “Forgetting you even mentioned the word ‘odds’, just remember how lucky you are at sabacc.”

“My luck is better than your cooking skills.” 

“Well, I hope you get to rescue your damsel in distress. But my guess is you’ll probably be hauling manure from Dantooine to rebellious farmers on some Agro moon. The rest of us got such plumb assignments, the trend must continue.” 

“You’re just sore that I’ll be off having fun freeing worlds with Winter while you pilot a fork from your plate to your mouth at a bunch of stuffy state diners.” 

Wedge sealed his bag and perched on the edge of his bunk. “It’s just funny. They’ve been building Rogue Squadron into the unit that destroyed two Death Stars by sneezing. I’m going to be spending the better part of my next tour duty on various worlds, convincing them to believe in the myth that the Empire has been banished single handedly by a Princess, a couple of Jedi, a handful of smugglers, and an undefeatable X-Wing squadron. Yet Rogue Squadron is dead. Gone, no longer wanted even if needed. It feels like I’m giving up. That my past five years working with the squadron has been a waste.” 

Tycho planted all four legs of his chair firmly on the ground and caught Wedge’s eyes. “It has not been a waste. We’ve accomplished so much that the needs of the New Republic are now changing. We have warriors, now we need heroes. We’ve won our freedom, and now we must make the best of it.” Tycho smiled slightly. “You often speak of Red Squadron as if they were Rogues. Tell me, how were they different?” 

Wedge cupped his chin with his hands, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “They weren’t, really. The same skill, the same bravery, the same sense of community.” 

“The same spirit, just a different name. Wedge, that spirit isn’t going to die just because Rogue Squadron doesn’t exist in name. You carry it, I carry it, Sith, Command is going to regret putting Wes and Hobbie on training duty because they’re going to give a piece of that spirit to every one of those cadets. Dissolution doesn’t mean the end, it just means we’re breaking up into little pieces to go out and affect other little pieces.” 

Wedge let a Corellian grin tug at his features. “Until Rogueish behavior has taken over the galaxy. Come on Captain Philosophy. Let’s go drown our sorrows in Corellian fashion in good Alderaanian ale while listing to horrible Taanabian dancing music until we all need a Ralltiirian hangover cure.” 

Standing, Tycho asked, “There’s a Ralltiirian hangover cure?” 

Wedge clapped a hand on Tycho’s shoulder. “Yeah. It consists of sitting in the middle of the mess drinking caf while moaning about how horrible your head hurts.” 

Tycho laughed. “Yes, I do believe that is how Hobbie likes to cure his hangovers. Seems to work for Wes, too.” 

“Let’s go give Rogue Squadron a proper sendoff.” 

_The End_


End file.
